


Willing

by jenna_thorn



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-02
Updated: 2011-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-26 19:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenna_thorn/pseuds/jenna_thorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>birthday comment fic for Catt</p><p><i>Xander and someone, and the prompt is "you can't use a cat for THAT!"</i></p><p><i>Triple point score if you manage a crossover with either Supernatural, Sherlock, or Criminal Minds.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Willing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cluegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluegirl/gifts).



They worked in silence, stepping around one another and tossing the chalk back and forth with nothing more than a glance and nod. Harris clapped the book shut, then sneezed at the puff of dust that resulted. Sam carefully ignored him as he rubbed at his cheek under the patch with a grimy hand, then stopped, winced, rinsed and dried his hand, and more carefully rubbed the only clean corner of a greasy rag under it.

“Now we just need bait.”

Harris rummaged in his duffle. “I’ve got a bag of Cheetos. Well, half a bag.”

“You think he’s still human enough to be drawn by food?”

“Even if he were, they’re pretty stale.” He dropped them back into the bag and rubbed his forehead.

Sam wiped the chalk dust on his jeans. “I heard a stray cat in the alley and I’ve got some tuna in the car. Give me a sec.”

“You can’t use a cat for this.”

“Fresh blood, pretty sure it’ll work, yeah.”

“No.” He stood, all their earlier easy camaraderie gone.

“Look Harris, he’ll kill if we don’t …”

“If you say the word sacrifice, I’ll find out how fast you can get that thing out of your waistband.”

Sam kept his hands rib high, well away from the Glock in his belt. He needed a smaller holster if it was that obvious. Harris jumped over the first line of glyphs and stepped delicately past the second. He stood over the copper bowl, drew a stilletto and sliced open his hand. “You think ten milliliters is enough?”

“If it’s not, we’ll find out.” Sam watched as Harris spun on the ball of one foot, then hopped back out of the trap. Sam tossed him gauze and Harris pressed it to the wound. Only then did he grimace.

“You’ve weakened yourself. To protect a feral cat,” Sam said.

“My choice.” Harris slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder and walked away.


End file.
